


in the face of infinity

by mikkey_bones



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Complete, M/M, Mind Games, Post-Movie(s), Whiskey & Scotch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkey_bones/pseuds/mikkey_bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony makes good on his offer to give Loki a drink.  Loki offers something in return.  The universe is too big, too unfathomable, too empty for either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the face of infinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miss_violet_hunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_violet_hunter/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Пред Лицом Бесконечности](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097382) by [Innocent_Mary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innocent_Mary/pseuds/Innocent_Mary)



> I was really struck by how Tony and Loki are the only ones in the _Avengers_ movie, really, who have been to the universe of Thanos/the Chitauri and lived to tell about it. Thus, this fic, perhaps a bit PWP, but motivated by a desire for sexy frostiron times.
> 
> Now available in Russian translation [here](http://ficbook.net/readfic/1122283)!

Loki looked demure this way, without his layers and layers of leather and armor.  It almost made Tony uncomfortable, as if Loki was naked, even though he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and soft cotton pants.  His head was down, too, a submissive position, and Tony had to look twice before he recognized the arrogant man – god? – who had so willfully fought them only days before.

“Knock knock,” Tony said as he entered.  Loki looked up slowly.  His hands were held together with some intricate looking device; a gray, metallic muzzle covered most of the lower half of his face.  His expression was blank.

“Hey there,” Tony continued, dropping the bottle of scotch onto the bench next to Loki.  “This room's a little sparse, isn't it?  Probably... not what you're used to.  Though I guess you had a chance to get used to this sort of thing, back on the heli-carrier...”  He shrugged and sat down next to Loki.  “So, how's it feel, not being such hot stuff anymore?  I'd imagine it's pretty humiliating for a guy like you, with an ego the size of, oh, I don't know, the area of Manhattan you leveled with your army?  Maybe bigger than that, even.”  He bent down to place the one liquor glass on the floor by his feet, holding onto the other one.  “Anyway,” he continued glibly, “I figure I still owe you that drink, right?”  With the ease of long practice, he opened the bottle and poured a measure of scotch into the glass.  “Here you go.”  He held up the glass for Loki, who hesitated before holding out his joined hands, taking the glass awkwardly and making the scotch it contained slosh alarmingly from side to side.

“And... there you are,” Tony said and smiled at Loki.  Then, “Right, you'll probably have some trouble drinking that.”  He stood, not missing Loki's slight flinch.  “Lean forward, will you?  Let me figure out how this thing works.”

After a pause, Loki gave him a darkly significant look and leaned forward, letting his hair fall across his face.  Tony brushed away the remaining strands at the back of his neck, exposing the workings of the muzzle.  While it could be controlled remotely, as he suspected, there was a manual catch in the back, out of reach for Loki with his arm restraints.  Tony pressed the button gingerly and the device opened at the back, the two sides retracting into themselves.  It fell off into Tony's hand.

“Well, that was convenient,” he commented, sitting back down and putting the muzzle on his other side, far away from Loki.

“Stark,” Loki said.  His voice was a croak.  The muzzle had left red lines across his mouth and his lips were chapped.  Bravely, stupidly, Tony reached out to touch the indentations as Loki sat stonily, icily still.  “Stark,” he repeated.

“You know,” Tony said, picking up the bottle of scotch and pouring another glass for himself, “I don't know how accurate this is, but in Norse mythology on earth, there's a story about Loki getting his mouth sewn shut for lying to some dwarves.  Has that happened to you?”  He reached out again, this time to take Loki's chin in his hand and swipe a rough thumb over his bottom lip.  “It looks like it hurts but this is a hell of a lot better than a needle and thread.”

“ _Stark_ ,” Loki repeated, and jerked his chin out of the way.

Tony tossed back a mouthful of scotch.  “That's my name, don't wear it out.”

Loki's glare could have lasered through ice.  “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice flat and raspy.  Tony wondered if he had even been given food or water since his capture, and if he needed it at all.

“I promised you a drink,” he replied, and took the scotch from Loki's unprotesting hands.  “I'm not stupid enough to take your handcuffs off, though, so I'm not sure what you want me to do about that.”

Loki looked away and licked his lips.  His tongue was a shade darker, redder, wetter, than the pale and dry skin around his mouth.  Tony could almost see the gears working in his mind, cogs turning, thoughts falling into place.

“I could help you out,” he suggested after a few moments of silence, lifting the glass.  “Have you tasted liquor before, on Earth?  Thor informs me you don't have stuff quite like this back at home.”

As usual, at the mention of his brother, Loki stiffened and turned his glare back to Tony.  “Fine,” he said, his head held high.  “I shall taste it.  And once we have shared the drink of hospitality, you shall tell me the real reasons for your visit.”  His gray-blue-green eyes were already searching Tony's face, as though they could catch the answer there, as though it was written across his forehead, clear as day, and maybe it was.

“Alright, then,” Tony said and lifted the glass, pressing it to Loki's lower lip.  He tilted it slowly, carefully, letting just a little of the amber liquid drip into Loki's mouth before putting the glass down again.  “See?” he said.  “I can be gentle.”

Loki's Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed, pensive.  “You saw it, didn't you, and that's why you are here.”

Tony blinked and instinctively gulped down the rest of his own scotch.  “Saw what?” he asked, feigning innocence.  Loki had probably known from the very beginning.  That's how things were with him.  And anyway, it was something...

When Loki met his eyes, Tony thought he saw infinities of stars and pain and other-ness in the Asgardian's gaze.  “The universe,” he said, a note of awe (or was it fear?) coloring his voice.  “The other world.”

Tony remembered the stars, he remembered the ship, he remembered the abrupt disconnection from Pepper and Jarvis and the suit's loss of function and the utter loneliness of space.  He remembered his breath failing and the infinities stretched before him.  He remembered falling but not falling, and the sickening suspense of free fall.  “How about that?” he said.

Wordlessly, Loki looked at him; wordlessly, Tony put the glass to Loki's lips and gave him another drink, a larger one this time.

“Is it,” Tony began, stopped, and then began again, “for you, was it that...”  He gestured helplessly, unsure of what word to use.  Vast?  Alien?  Incomprehensible?

And Loki's answering smile was thin, grim, full of the same sorts of things that Tony was thinking – the same empty spaces and soundless expanses.  “Yes,” he replied.  “I should think so.  I was not used to such interdimensional travel when I arrived.  That universe, that place – it is different from Asgard and Midgard and,” a slight hesitation, “Jotunheim.  There is a feeling to that universe that is unlike any other.  It is...”

He paused, and Tony hazarded an adjective with which to fill in the blank.  “Empty?”

“Dead,” Loki said, and although his eyes were facing Tony his gaze seemed to be reflecting on far away expanses.  “Perhaps it was Niflheim.  Perhaps it was Hel.”

Tony thought of the endless depths that had begun to haunt his dreams, even as he lay sprawled and satisfied beside a dozing Pepper.  The land of endless mist, the land of the dead... “I'd believe that,” he said, and his fingers tightened on his glass.  He poured himself some more alcohol and, as an afterthought, topped off Loki's portion too.

“No one else will,” Loki said, and leaned forward a bit, his mouth open.  Tony automatically put the glass to his lips and let him drink a little more; Loki gulped the liquor greedily and licked his lips as he swallowed.  “No one will understand the things you saw.  They looked through the portal – they saw the stars and perhaps they saw the ship – but they did not _feel_.  Your Steve, your precious Pepper–”

“ _Don't_ say her name,” Tony snapped, perhaps more sharply than he had intended.  He tightened his hand on Loki's glass; a little scotch slopped over the side and spilled on his hand.  “Don't.  Leave her out of this.”

Loki smiled at him – and it was that same smile he had seen him wear in Germany, the crazed one that split his face from ear to ear.  The one that said, _I win. Checkmate_.  “She won't understand the dreams,” he said.  “Or the nightmares.”

Tony looked down at his glass for a moment, and Loki must have moved as fast as a cat, because when he looked up again, Loki's face was rightfuckingthere and in an instant, he was kissing Tony, their noses smashing together for a moment before Loki turned his head to the side, grazing Tony's lips with his teeth, slipping his tongue inside Tony's mouth.  The kiss tasted of scotch and hunger and exploding stars in the depths of space.  “Shit,” Tony breathed against Loki's lips and leaned back, his heart racing in his chest.  He was breathing hard and his body was responding faster than it had when he was making out with Susan in the locker room at fourteen.  “Shit,” he repeated, and deliberately put down both glasses of scotch.

Loki was watching him like a cat watches a mouse.  “Is there something wrong, Stark?”

 _Hell yeah, there's something wrong_ , Tony thought, and in Fury's voice too.  He swallowed, licked his lips.  “What the hell.”  And really, _what the hell_.  “You're not drunk, are you?” he babbled.  “I mean, it was only like, three sips of liquor; Thor can take his alcohol like a pro, you can't be that much of a lightweight, right?”

There was mischief in Loki's gaze now as he captured Tony's lips for another searing kiss, this time taking his lower lip between his teeth and biting it.  Tony let it go on for far too long – thirty seconds too long – before pulling away.

“Woah, woah, no no no no no,” he said, getting to his feet and backing away.  He was glad he always wore briefs with his Ironman outfit; he was glad his pants were of thicker material than Loki's which didn't do a very good job of hiding things; shit, they didn't hide anything at all.  “No, no, no,” he said again, waving his hand in the universal 'cut it out' gesture.  “I did _not_ come here for this, Loki.”

Loki didn't even need to reply – he made his point by giving Tony's crotch a significant look and raising his eyebrow halfway.

“ _No_ ,” Tony said firmly.  “I didn't, Jesus,” he ran an agitated hand through his hair, “I didn't come here for this.”  He turned towards the door, turned back, sent the scotch a longing look.

“Are you sure?” Loki asked.  He looked perfectly composed, damn him, as though he was in control, even though he was the one imprisoned with his hands chained up and that damned muzzle was sitting on the bench, just waiting.  “Is this not what you wanted?  Someone who would understand your visions in the best way you know how to understand?  _Touch_ , Anthony Stark – perhaps you are, as Thor says, the Man of Iron, but you are oh so soft underneath.”  When he grinned, he showed all of his teeth.

Tony opened his mouth to reply, took a breath, and then shut his mouth.  Right, this had been in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s briefing.  Loki was the god of lies and trickery and deceit, yeah, yeah, yeah, and they didn't call him Silvertongue for nothing.  Shit.

Loki has an edge now, or at least he thinks he has an edge.  Maybe he does.  “When I kiss you, do you not taste it?” he asks.  “The emptiness?  The abyss?”  He licks his lips and Tony follows the motion of his tongue with his eyes; it's hypnotic.  Practically pornographic.  “Your scientist Erik Selvig told me something I liked very much.  He said that when you stare into the abyss–”

“– it stares back into you,” Tony interrupted, his tone brusque.  He rallied his wits and tried not to look at Loki's mouth, where the red marks left by the muzzle had been slowly fading.  “Nietzsche said it first.  And yeah, that's great and all, but I've been meaning to ask, what, uh, is going to happen to you, once Thor takes you back to Asgard?”

Abruptly, Loki lost his smile; he glared and bared his teeth at Tony.  “We were speaking of other things, Stark.”

“Rumor has it you're going to get chained up by the entrails of one of your sons,” Tony continued blithely, “and then the gods will set a giant snake above you, to drip highly poisonous venom onto your skin.  Is that what's going to happen now?  I can't say I'd be surprised.  Even Thor isn't that happy with you right now.”

Loki bared his teeth again.  “I will be put on trial,” he said coldly.  “In a place where neither your threats nor your testimony matter.”  And he straightened his back and lifted his chin.

Tony smiled grimly.  “Bet that's comforting,” he said.  “Knowing the big, bad Avengers won't be following you back to where you came from.”  He strode back across the room to sit by Loki again, feeling more comfortable now that he had gained the upper hand in the conversation, and picked up Loki's glass, which was still half-full.  “More scotch?”

His flippancy was greeted with a look that could raze mountains, but after a moment Loki accepted.  “Please,” he said, and his tone was venomous.  Tony lifted the glass up to Loki's lips.  “Tell me when,” he said, tilting it up.

Loki closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his throat bobbing as he gulped down the drink.  Tony remained frozen until the glass was empty, then put it back on the bench, where the small clunk echoed in the silence.  There was a dribble of amber liquid trickling down the side of Loki's mouth.  Against his better judgment, Tony reached out and wiped it away.  Maybe he lingered too long on Loki's lips, because the next thing Tony knew, his fingers were in Loki's mouth, being sucked on gently.  _Silvertongue_.

“Shit,” Tony said aloud and yanked his fingers away.  Loki grinned and followed them, moving his face close until their noses were almost touching.

“Come now, Stark,” Loki said.  His breath, smelling warmly of scotch, ghosted over Tony's lips, making him swallow nervously.  “You have seen the abyss once already.  Don't you wish to see it once more?”

 _Yes_ , Tony thought.  “No,” he said, but he wasn't moving away; if anything, he was leaning forward.

Loki grinned – Tony more felt than saw it – and kissed him again.  If he had been shocked by their other kisses, this was, this was something else.  Loki's lips felt like ice, felt like the numbing cold in the vacuum of space; the contact between their mouths took his breath away and when Tony brought up his hand to cup Loki's cheek, Loki's skin was had been so leached of warmth that it felt dead to his touch.

It was like the universe, Tony thought.  It was everything.  It was nothing.  It was like being suspended in cold and empty space with faraway nebula that looked close enough to touch, and hot enough to burn.

It tasted vaguely of liquor, and that was what made Tony tear himself away.  “No,” he said, breathing hard.  He put his finger to his lips; they were cold.  “No, we can't do this.  _I_ can't do this.”  He stood up.  His hands were shaking.  “You've had your drink; I've kept my word.  Playtime is over.”

Loki watched him expressionlessly as he fumbled with the muzzle, finally getting the two sides open again.  “We will meet again, Stark,” he said, smiling slowly.  His chapped lips were slightly swollen from the kiss.  Tony looked away.  “You have my word.”

“Looking forward to it,” Tony replied gruffly as he put the muzzle in place against Loki's mouth, fastening it carefully.  He tried not to think about the red marks it had left on Loki's skin, or how painful it might be, or whether or not Fury and his goons were feeding him, ever.  And he tried not to think about hunger and thirst and the urgent, pressing, animalistic need to escape.  “See you later,” he said, grabbing the two glasses and the bottle of scotch.  “Or maybe never.”

As he left the room as fast as he could, Tony couldn't help but feeling like he was running away.  And he didn't look back, even though he felt Loki's eyes boring into the back of his neck.  Loki had seen everything, even more than Tony had.  He _knew_.

He hurried through dark corridors and took the fastest elevator to the top of Stark Tower, back to the sunlight, back to blue skies and the comforting smells and sounds of Manhattan traffic.  But the emptiness followed him, pressed in on him from all sides, and even as he walked into his penthouse, greeted Pepper, chatted with Jarvis, a tendril of fear, cold, numbing, icy fear, wafted across his lips and curled down the back of his neck.

 _We'll meet again, Stark_ , he thought, and behind Loki's words was the promise of the universe.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] In The Face Of Infinity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/934816) by [IsahBellah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsahBellah/pseuds/IsahBellah)




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